The palace was cold, as though itself a physical manifestation of the Queen's sombre mood. There were very few windows through which to admit light, the hallways lit instead by mounted lanterns which emitted only a dim glow, forcing the retreat of the shadows into the corners. Much seemed disused—the space available evidently being in excess—as made apparent by the dust and cobwebs which closed in on the empty passages. It was a morose sort of place, not at all as Eric had envisaged it from his view of the pristine, bleached exterior and turrets which sparkled in the morning sun.

To fight was pointless; this he had determined almost immediately. He was outnumbered, nor could he hope to escape even if he did manage to free himself. The human-turn-merman was completely at the mercy of the pair who held him so tightly, supporting his upper body between them as he was dragged backwards through the labyrinth. Without any idea as to where he was being taken or what was to happen to him, Eric had done all that he could; he had observed. Every turn taken, every door passed through, every fleeting glance of daylight had he memorised. Perhaps, come sunset, he could escape this place.

At length they came to a door, the guards stopping briefly to unlock it before passing through. The floor beneath Eric fell away after that in a series of slight but uncomfortable bumps as he was dragged carelessly down a flight of stone stairs, ever deeper into the bowels of the palace. With nowhere else to direct his attention, he focused on the retreating light admitted by the door above, until that too faded and eventually disappeared.

'Where are you taking me?' he tried, though his voice trembled.

There came no answer. When they had first dragged him off his struggles had been accompanied by a flood of desperate questions, but they had been met with a sharp twist of his arm and a command of silence. Since, Eric had strived to calm himself, to appear less frantic that they might consider him as reasonable rather than hysterical. Still, that he was now met with silence was of little surprise. When was the last time—besides Ariel—that someone had actually listened to him? His mother, King Triton, the human Queen, and now his captors; it was like talking to a brick wall. So little understanding, so little desire to even attempt it. If he could but explain himself!

A pressure settled on his chest and his swallowed hard to push down this threatening weakness. He felt so alone. No one to turn to; no one who would grant him a moment to express his feelings, to present his side of the story. So caught up in his own self-pity was he, that he hardly noticed as they reached their destination. Behind him the sound of metal bolts being drawn back echoed around the empty chamber which Eric had not the presence of mind to attend. Only when he suddenly toppled and was submerged in salt water did he come back to his senses with a jolt. He righted himself, one hand to his chest as his lungs and parched throat welcomed the change in surroundings. His mind, though, was in too much a state of turmoil to pay it much heed. With a pang of alarm was his attention drawn upwards, a second before a metal grate came down over his new prison. Foreseeing a repeat of the previous day, Eric pitched upwards, hands gripping the frigid metal.

There remained about a foot of space between the surface of the water and the prison bars, so his situation was not so dire as it might have been. Still, the thought of being trapped down here panicked him.

'Wait! Please!' he begged, as the guards fastened the heavy bolts and turned back the way they'd come. 'Please listen to me!'

Neither made any indication to suggest they had heard his pleas.

With heightening anxiety did Eric continue, desperate for them to understand. 'This isn't permanent,' he cried to their retreating forms, 'I can't control it, you have to understand.' Something like déjà vu settled heavily over his awareness. His last words were desperate and spoken to an empty space. 'You can't leave me here!'

The silence which greeted him was deafening. His own ragged breaths were all that accompanied him, until the far away thud of a closing door convinced him that he truly was to be left down here. His mind was in too much a state of turmoil to take in his surroundings, but a vast and dank room would have greeted him, poorly illuminated by mounted lamps whose light failed to reach the corners; the boundaries of the room thus remained cloaked in darkness. The grate to which Eric clung so fiercely topped a wide, circular well-like structure, its wall rising only a couple of feet from the floor. Quite disturbingly, it was not the only one of its kind down here. A row of four stood like regimented soldiers in the gloom.

Numb and hopeless, Eric released his death-like grip on his prison bars, freefalling down, down through the murky water, arms wrapped around himself. His tail crumpled beneath him as he met the scant scattering of sand and shells at the wells nadir, and he gave in to his despair. His sobs seemed to hang in the water, the hollow sounds of his own grief manifesting like an iron cloak around his shoulders, crushing him. At every turn, to be met always with such a lack of compassion, such harshness, was devastating; and it was slowly destroying him. To have one's sense of self-worth chipped away at by strangers can only be endured for so long. Was this what the world was like? No. Eric checked himself. Many of the people he'd met had been kind to him: Hanna and the human villagers he had purchased goods from, his mother—she may have had secrets, but she had loved him, or kept up the impression of loving him, for as long as he could remember until very recently. Carlotta had shown him kindness too. Ariel's sisters had helped him. Ariel herself… Eric's heart clenched in agony. He missed her terribly. What he wouldn't give to turn back time. He brought his hands to his face, as though to hide himself from the world, though down here there was surely little chance of being noticed.

Somebody had noticed though, watching the young merman's pain from the shadows with an increasingly aching heart. Cautiously, the onlooker inched forward.

'Hello.'

Eric startled, a choked sob catching at the back of his throat. He had assumed himself alone, but in lowering his hands realised his oversight. A face, pale and gaunt as that of a spectre, emerged from the inky blackness, its features pinched in sympathy.

'Are you alright?'

The voice was as frail as the body it came from, but the words came kindly. Into the muted light drifted the figure of a mermaid, her sallow appearance immediately affecting Eric as he wondered what she had been through down here. She looked old, though quite probably older than her years, and there was an innate gentleness in the way she let herself fall to the floor beside him.

'Don't be afraid.' She placed a hand on the cobalt scales of his fin—scales which looked almost black down here—and offered him a reassuring smile. 'You're not alone.'

Eric longed to tell her how much those words meant to him, but he found himself utterly speechless. For his sorrow to be interrupted like this, replaced so unexpectedly by such bewilderment. His astonishment at finding another down here, coupled with his alarm and distress at the appearance of this ailing mermaid, it was overwhelming. Whilst his mind struggled to process this emotional overload, the mermaid watched him calmly, patiently waiting for him to catch up to his senses.

'Are you hurt darling?'

Noting her genuine concern for him Eric shook his head, the power of speech being still somewhat out of his reach.

'Well, thank goodness for that.' She narrowed her eyes pensively, considering him it seemed. 'I can only imagine what you've been through.'

Eric scoffed humourlessly, the first responsive sound he'd made thus far. She could imagine all she liked, but he was fairly certain that she would never even come close to reality.

'Do you have a name?'

The blood drained from Eric's face. He lowered his head to avoid her gaze and stared at his hands as they trembled upon his lap. That was a question he had, over the past two days, come to fear. Best avoided, he decided, he was safer that way. 'That doesn't matter,' he muttered. Although, he considered, even if she had reacted to his name in the same manner as King Triton and the human Queen, what could she have done? He was already imprisoned; she couldn't very well lock him up again. Still, he let his original statement stand.

There followed a period of silence. Either the mermaid was surprised that she had finally managed to draw speech from him or confounded by his answer. Not that Eric could blame her, his was hardly the customary response to such a rudimentary question. When she did speak, her words were full of regret.

'I'm sorry that you think so. I hope nobody's made you feel that to be true.' She didn't press the matter further though, for which Eric was grateful. Her words affected him though, for they loomed too near accuracy for his liking.

The mermaid could see that she was unlikely to make any further progress at this moment. She would wait, allow the young man to recover himself. There was one aspect of his appearance though that she couldn't help but query. 'You know,' she began, 'I've seen many merpeople in my life, all different and wonderfully unique, with all manner of stories to tell. I don't recall ever seeing one in human clothes though.'

Only after a moment of confusion did Eric realise that he still wore the shirt given to him by Carlotta upon his waking that morning. The trousers and boots were gone, rejected by his changing form, but he remained covered from the waist up, the white fabric now waterlogged and drifting loosely over his skin.

'I…' He searched in vain for an explanation, a subversion of the truth that might suffice, but found none. He didn't want to lie to this woman who had been so kind to him. 'It's a long story,' he settled on, his tone belaying his melancholy, 'I don't… I don't really want to talk about it.'

It was strange. He had been so desperate to be heard and now, with somebody finally willing to listen, he couldn't bring himself to relay all that he had been through. All that was on his mind. It wasn't fair to burden this mermaid with his problems when clearly, being down here, she had her own to contend with.

'And I've no intention of making you,' said the mermaid softly, pressing his hands momentarily before rising with some effort from the floor. 'Get some rest if you can, you look exhausted.' She noted the dark shadows beneath the young merman's eyes, themselves shot through with threads of sadness, and how he held himself as though the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders. 'Come and find me when you wake. It shouldn't be too difficult, there aren't many places to look.'

Eric agreed to this absentmindedly. Despite having been unconscious for the best part of twelve hours, his body and mind felt heavy with fatigue. He watched as the mermaid retreated into a darkened addition to the prison that he hadn't noticed before, and leaned back against the slick stone wall. He was curious. Wanted to know about the mermaid, about this place, but he simply hadn't the energy at present. Even to keep his eyes open took a frightening effort.

The mermaid stopped before the shadows could swallow her completely. 'Darling,' she implored, 'don't lose hope. Often, it's all we have. Hold on to it won't you?'

Eric found comfort in these words. He nodded. 'Thank you.'

The mermaid smiled and disappeared into the gloom.